I respect Benjamin West, Sir, of course. We all do. He made a good
thing of it. Take the word of an old man who has seen life and knows
the world, and remember that, with all your fine fiddling, it is
money makes the mare go. Old men like me don't mince matters, Sir.
It's money--money!"

Abel thought old men sometimes minced grammar a little, but he did not
say so. He only looked respectful, and said, "Yes, Sir."

"About drawing the house, come when you choose," said Mr. Burt, rising.

"It may take more than one, or even three or four afternoons, Sir, to do
it properly."

"Well, well. If I'm not at home ask for Mrs. Simcoe, d'ye hear? Mrs.
Simcoe. She will attend to you."

Abel bowed very respectfully and as if he were controlling a strong
desire to kneel and kiss the foot of his Holiness, Christopher Burt;
but he mastered himself, and Hiram opened the front door.

"Good-by, Hiram," said. Abel, putting a piece of money into his hand.

"Oh no, Sir," said Hiram, pocketing the coin.

Abel walked sedately down the steps, and looked carefully around him. He
scanned the windows; he glanced under the trees; but he saw nothing. He
did every thing, in fact, but study the house which he had been asking
permission to draw. He looked as if for something or somebody who did not
appear. But as Hiram still stood watching him, he moved away.